


Precious Poison, Reviled Remedy

by GloriaByrd



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29028966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GloriaByrd/pseuds/GloriaByrd
Summary: The Inquisitor clings to life after collapsing at Skyhold. It's up to her mage companions (including Solas!) to rescue her from red lyrium in the Fade, if they can stop bickering. Meanwhile, tensions build as the lords and ladies of Orlais currently visiting Skyhold are forbidden to leave, and the rest of the Inquisitor's companions investigate who is behind Lavellan's ailment.
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

It was meant to be a night of revelry. A night of celebration after a much-deserved victory. But that night, the Inquisition drank more than wine in golden goblets. They drank defeat, its bitter taste forever upon their tongues . . .

_The night of the feast_

Skyhold adorned gilded statues and intricate Inquisition tapestries for the event while the members of the organization donned their own wear. Vivienne in a fashionable blue gown hollered at a decorator as he dropped a porcelain plate. It shattered on the stone floor, each piece skittering into a shadowed recess of the great chamber. Sera snatched a handful of cookies from a tray as it passed her, and she darted away, stuffing them into her mouth and pockets. Josephine frantically rushed from table to table with a tablet and quill in hand. Ignoring the many dishes surrounding him, Varric scribbled away on parchments at a seat near the fireplace. Iron Bull chugged his third tankard and wiped the foam away from his lips with a satisfied grin. Cole nestled small bouquets of fresh-picked flowers under the wraps of silverware and cloths.

Inquisitor Riya Lavellan grinned at the display. She admired the decorations of blue and yellow blossoms, representative of their successful pact with Orlais. Empress Celene had been so impressed by the Inquisition at the Winter Palace that she persuaded the Inquisition to host its own gathering. Now there was the task of making Skyhold suitable for Orlesian royalty.

“Solas?” Riya asked as she tentatively opened his door. The noise in the main hall drowned the usual creak of the hinges. Solas sat at his desk with papers scattered about. Crumbling books as thick as a young tree saved the pages pinned beneath them from the incoming draft. He scrawled something onto a paper before he slammed a book shut on top of it and rose with sudden alertness.

“Riya,” he greeted with an anxious gaze.

She stepped toward his desk and sat on it. “Why won’t you join the party?” She ran a finger over the spine of the tome he had so abruptly shut.

She could almost sense the relaxing of his shoulders. “I find satisfaction in the festivity itself rather than the preparations.”

“Will you dance with me again?” She eyed him with green orbs of hope.

He allowed himself a smile. “Of course.”

She leaned over the desk and kissed him for several seconds. She slinked away with a mischievous grin. Solas watched her leave with a lingering smile and then reopened his book. Riya exited the main hall and ventured toward the tavern. As she had guessed, Cassandra, Blackwall, and Cullen were sparring. She did not bother looking for Leliana. It was well known she had hidden herself away in her watchtower; there were not many places from which to spy on the guests in Skyhold.

Cassandra battered Blackwall’s shield with her own as Cullen brought his sword down on her. She ducked and rolled using her shield and then raised it in defense. Cullen’s weapon rebounded. Blackwall swung at her feet, but she leapt over the blade and in the process, met both their necks with the sharp ends of her sword and shield. She smirked at them. They responded with complements and tips on how to improve her form. Riya’s hand tightened in response as if she was holding her stave. She turned her head to see it resting beside the window of her chambers high above. She missed holding it.

“Inquisitor,” the three warriors hailed.

“Good evening,” Riya replied. “Will you three be joining us tonight?”

“Doubtful,” Cassandra answered. Cullen and Blackwall nodded in agreement.

Cullen swept his hand through his hair. “I can only handle one Orlesian gathering at a time.”

Riya grinned. “It will be a dull party without you.”

“I _completely_ agree,” Blackwall responded. Cassandra turned to him and raised her eyebrows. “Did you just make a joke?”

Blackwall stroked his beard mysteriously. Riya chuckled and waved farewell. “I have to supervise the decorating, or else Vivienne will bite someone’s head off.” The warriors snickered.

Riya was skipping back up the stairs to the main hall when a soldier called from the battlements, “Empress Celene has arrived!” The Inquisitor growled in her throat and turned on her heel. _Of course she arrives_ just _when I walk_ all the way _up the stairs._

The portcullis rose accompanied by the clinking of chains. Immaculate snowy horses, excluding mud, pulled a carriage furnished with blue silk curtains and small gold sculptures. Several dozen less ornate carriages followed the first. Phalanxes of chevaliers on armored steeds led and followed the transports. The coachman of the most elaborate carriage removed a red carpet from a box and rolled it out on the muddy ground. He then opened the door for the Empress who managed to emerge elegantly, despite the bulk of her blue and gold embroidered gown. The rest of the ladies in their separate vehicles followed suit; however, they did so far less gracefully. For those who had them, their male partners stepped out and linked arms as they followed the Empress along the ever-expanding rug. Various coachmen hastily seized carpets from their boxes and unrolled them over the dirt. Even so, the ladies’ wide dresses caught muck and leaves in their many layers of fabric.

Riya scoffed at the ridiculousness of their attire. As a Dalish elf, fashion was something of a rarity, and those who engaged in the act of dressing up in such a way were seen as giant dolls. They even retained their ornate masks. With how they stepped on the uneven ground in their high-heeled shoes with dread etched on their faces, it wasn’t difficult to imagine them as though they were made of porcelain. The warriors watched them from the training circle with mirrored distaste. Still, Riya grabbed at her white elven gown she had been dissuaded from wearing at the Winter Palace. Skyhold was her home, and she would not let humans decide what she must wear. She released the soft fabric and straightened the golden cuffs that marked the end of the sleeves. Hers was much shorter than Orlesian dresses, leaving the bottom free from grime.

“ _Bonjour_ , Inquisitor,” Empress Celene declared as she curtsied slightly.

“The Inquisition is pleased to host Your Majesty,” Riya replied with a lower curtsy. She swept her arm toward the entrance to the main chamber. “Come in.” Each footstep of theirs seemed to fill Riya with a hundred nervous heartbeats, for she could only hope decorating was finished and everyone was behaving as they should.

Riya entered last and released a sigh of relief at the lack of negative comments regarding the hall. In fact, the lords and ladies seemed quite pleased with the decorations, especially those denoting Orlais. A band played a soft melody in a corner of the room. Riya nodded approvingly at what the Inquisition had accomplished in such a short amount of time.

“This is a small chamber, Inquisitor. There is hardly anywhere to dance.” Riya whipped around at the sound of Celene’s voice.

“Oh. Yes. Thankfully, Skyhold makes up for its shortcomings with its defensive properties.” Riya grabbed a glass of wine from a passing server and sipped at it gratefully. At least here she didn’t need to worry about court approval.

Celene studied the stone walls with obvious disfavor in her scrutiny. “It is quite . . . Ferelden.” She too took a glass and drank.

“How fares the Grand Duke Gaspard?”

Celene hesitated, but it was almost imperceptible. “Well, from what I have heard, a few followers of his have refused to cease their protests.”

“How have––”

“He deserves to rule!” Everyone’s heads turned to the sudden commotion. The Orlesian man glared at the onlookers, threw his arms up, and stalked outdoors. The man he was speaking to shrugged and turned to speak to someone else. Conversation returned to the space within seconds.

“What was that about?” Riya asked Celene.

“Gaspard. One of the followers we just spoke of. Odd that he was invited to such a gathering.” She turned curious eyes to the Inquisitor who forced a smile.

“I have to speak to the other guests. Thank you for your time, Empress Celene.” She curtsied again and egressed the commotion via the garden. The herbal scent of elfroot greeted her, and at that, she closed her eyes and savored it.

“Riya?”

She started at the mention of her name. It had been a long time since someone had called her that. “Who’s there?”

“Cole.”

“Oh,” she said, chuckling. She held a hand to her chest as if to calm her speeding heart. “Hello, Cole.” She saw him now. He sat on the roof with his legs dangling off. He twirled an arrow in his fingers.

“Hello.”

“What are you doing up there?”

“It’s too loud. ‘Will he notice me?’ ‘Did I wear the right dress?’ ‘Will the Inquisitor approve?’”

Her eyebrows rose. “Who thought that last one?”

He pressed his hands to his head. “I don’t remember. I don’t remember.”

“It’s okay!” She held out her hands. “It’s okay.” She eyed the arrow he still held. “I think I remember seeing that before.” She thought about it for a second. “Yeah. It was stuck in that roof, and it had a paper impaled on it.”

“It’s elven, from when the sky was held back. They tried to stop him. The Evanuris didn’t want him to do it.” He held up the arrow to the last glimmers of sunlight that shot over the roof. “This was Andruil’s. The arrow was buried here, but Sera found it. She knew where it was. She shot it over here.”

“What? Who’s this ancient elf you’re talking about? What does Sera have to do with any of this?”

Cole’s eyes widened, and he covered his mouth, mindful of the arrow’s tip as he did so.

“You can tell me.”

He shook his head and stood, gradually lowering his hands. “I said too much already. Just be careful tonight. Snakes slithering, sneaking, slaughtering in the darkness.” He glanced around as if for prying eyes. “Be careful!” Then, he crept away into the darkness himself.

Riya shivered in the chilly air.

“Cold, Inquisitor?” She nearly yelped at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. People really needed to stop doing this to her.

She turned around and saw a tall man in Orlesian finery. Her eyes trailed his figure to his face above, a face that would have gone unnoticed by the casual observer except for the pale eyes that shone like white orbs in the dim light. She swallowed nervously. Her extensive combat experience never aided her in social situations, especially those with tall, dark, mysterious men who showed up out of nowhere.

“H-hello, ser.”

As he bowed, he took her hand and kissed it tenderly. “You are as gorgeous as the rumors say.” She could almost feel his eyes following her facial features to the tips of her pointed ears, at which he grimaced slightly. He turned that into a grin. “But even angels can have horns.”

“Thank you? Ser . . .”

“My name is not important. It is important that you know your life is in danger tonight. After seeing your might at the Winter Palace, she knows you are a threat. Celene has plotted to destroy the Inquisition by poisoning you here tonight. The Grand Duke Gaspard sent me to warn you, for he sides with you and does not wish to see you come to harm, despite your support for Celene. He believes a partnership may still be arranged.” He stared into her eyes with those white orbs. “Snakes slither at your doorstep, Inquisitor, and you have opened the door.” He kissed her hand again and swept away without another word. She breathed heavily. This was the second warning within minutes. What were the odds of them both containing snakes? She shook her head. Orlesian politics were becoming very tiring. She supposed that to avoid another chance meeting with a warning, she had better get back inside. The door swung open to reveal that the feast was just beginning. Fortunately, at Skyhold it didn’t matter that the Inquisitor was missing for half the party.

She took the seat reserved for her at the head of one of the tables. Empress Celene sat to her right and Solas to her left. Most of the Orlesian guests whispered behind their hands about the Inquisitor’s elven lover, his identity shown by his placing next to Riya. She clasped his hand resting upon the table and squeezed it comfortingly. He returned the gesture with a smile.

The floor was clear, and the band had transferred to music that better suited feasting than dancing. Riya released Solas’s hand and stood. She did not have to raise her voice much to be heard, for the conversation immediately ceased when her mouth opened. “The Inquisition thanks you all for attending this gathering.” She raised her glass, and everyone followed suit. “To the health and prosperity of Orlais.”

“To Orlais,” they followed, and they drank from their goblets. Riya sipped at hers greedily, the liquid disappearing faster than it should have. She sat down and took utensils in hand for cutting into the roast nug that rested in front of her on a lavish platter. Riya inhaled the scents of herbs and that rose from it. Sounds of “ahh” followed its cutting. The guests took this as a sign to dig into the food. Sera created a mountain atop her plate. Iron Bull continued with his bottomless tankard. Josephine hardly ate, instead conversing while occasionally glancing at Riya with a nervous gaze. Vivienne nibbled at the food on her fork with the utmost delicacy, dabbed at her lips, and gossiped with the Orlesians around her.

Riya pressed a hand to her chest and took several deep breaths. Her heart beat irregularly. She assumed it was pounding due to the stress of planning and the party itself. She cut a piece of the nug and took a bite of it. The taste she had previously been eager for now made her want to vomit. She lifted her eyes to the table again. The laughter and gossip blended into a deafening, monotonous sound. She blinked at the sconces on the walls as her eyes watered, too bright to look at even indirectly. The lights and sound became razors to her eyes and ears. A sharp pain cut at her stomach. She pressed her hands to it.

“Riya? Riya, are you all right?”

She lifted her head again to see who had spoken her name. She figured out through the blinding light that it was Solas. She stared at his hand on her arm, a fact she had been unaware of. She glanced back at her guests with confusion. Her words came out in short gasps. “Who are they? What’s happening?” The room twirled.

Solas stood and moved beside her, catching her as she fell out of her chair. Gasps issued from the table. Riya vomited on the floor. Several Inquisition members rose to help. The room became dark. Riya’s next words never made it to her lips before the world went cold.


	2. Chapter 2

“Cyanide,” Leliana confirmed, setting Riya’s empty goblet down on the table beside the Inquisitor’s bed, “but it is unlike any I’ve dealt with before.” If Leliana noticed the raised eyebrows from everyone in the room, she made no sign. “It appears to have been infused with red lyrium. I believe the creator of the poison intended for the cyanide to mask the red lyrium, thereby making any cyanide antidote we would try to use pointless. It is the red lyrium that’s the problem.”

Varric groaned the loudest of the Inquisitor’s party members in the room.

“The guests are being watched and the servants questioned,” Cullen announced as he ascended the stairs, interrupting their audible annoyance.

Josephine wrung the fabric of her shirt in her hands. “I cannot believe such an attempt was made at Skyhold, of all places.”

“I agree, Josie,” Leliana spoke again. “The Game is supposed to remain in Orlais. If someone wanted to poison the Inquisitor, why not do it at the Winter Palace? Unless . . . it was because she sided with Empress Celene.”

Josephine added, “It would make sense if a supporter of Gaspard was angry with the Inquisitor.”

“Or Celene is trying to destroy the Inquisition from the inside, but I doubt she would risk it while she was here herself. It would be too incriminating.”

Riya’s party members stood in the background, listening to the advisors’ conversation attentively and watching the Inquisitor’s restless movements. She was unconscious, but her breathing and heart rate had quickened dangerously.

“Healing potions!” Sera called out, her arms crossed.

“It would not work,” Leliana replied.

Sera pondered this. “Bees!”

“Bees?” Cullen asked skeptically.

She shrugged. “Throw ‘em in the assassin wannabe’s face.”

Cullen sighed and planted his palm in his face.

Varric threw his hands up. He exclaimed, “How are we supposed to cure red lyrium?” Silence ensued. He turned to each of them. “How many times has she saved us, saved the world? Are we going to mess around and goof off just because we don’t know where the cure to it is yet?” He paused. “We’re the Inquisition! The whole gang’s here!” He squinted at the team. “Where’s Chuckles?”

“He is in the rotunda,” Leliana replied.

Varric turned his gaze to Riya. She struggled in the blankets between warmth and cold. Sweat poured down her face. She muttered indecipherable words. Cole, sitting beside her, took her hands and whispered to her. She did not respond.

The group continued to watch in silence.


	3. Chapter 3

Solas rifled through a thick tome. Musty smells wafted through the air as he flipped the yellowed pages. He cast the ancient book aside, its spine falling off as it hit the frescoed wall. He dismissed the injury of the manuscript as he grabbed another book from a pile on his desk.

“Only magic of the opposite element can destroy barriers,” a page read. He shook his head and tossed the book against the walls. _Lies_.

He leaned over his desk, his head held low. He grabbed his necklace as it dangled over the table in his line of vision. His fingers brushed against an inscription in the bone. He held it in front of his eyes. “ _Ar lath ma, vhenan_ ,” it said. A heart punctuated the end.

He growled and swept everything off his desk. Books clattered, and papers drifted down. He looked at the books on the floor and held his hands above his head. “Riya,” he whispered, for he knew that if he spoke too loud, anyone above would hear him. His voice was desperation given form with lips cracked from the long hours without food or drink as he struggled to find a way to help her. He knelt with one hand clutching the desk and the other pressed to his forehead as he held back tears. His mind brought him to Riya against his will. The choice he had. That choice flickered in each vision. Her ashen skin. Her racing pulse. The heat that radiated from her. Her glazed eyes.

Her empty eyes.

He crumpled in on himself, both hands pressed to his forehead.

He sat there for several minutes until he gathered the strength to stand. Then, he collected the books in his arms and examined them with more patience.

“You know how to fix it,” Cole’s voice came from behind Solas. As Solas was familiar with the spirit’s habit of appearing unexpectedly, he did not turn around.

“I cannot do it that way,” Solas replied through clenched teeth. Right now, he didn’t need someone who could read his mind and emotions.

“You are afraid they will find out if you do.”

“The art is too old. I doubt it would work with the little magic available.”

“Because of the Veil.”

Solas nodded.

Cole continued, “The Fade is where the magic is strongest. Go there.”

Solas began to shake his head but stopped as he considered Cole’s words. _The Fade_. He could save her inside the Fade, in her waking nightmares, and that could cure her ailment. The wine was poisoned by red lyrium and cyanide. Lyrium was magical, therefore making it both in the physical world and the Fade. He could stop its progression there!

Solas breathed heavily at the thought of this discovery. In the time of the Evanuris, he could have combated the red lyrium in the physical world, but the Veil he had so foolishly created barred him from the use of that much magic. When Titans were commonplace, they could be destroyed by a single Evanuris, such as what Mythal did. A bit of lyrium, even in its blighted state, should not be so difficult to destroy in the source of magic itself, right?

“Thank you, Cole,” Solas said breathlessly as he pushed through the doors and into the main hall. The hall was crowded with ladies waving their fans and gentlemen yelling at servants for them to be released. The loud din of anxious conversation struck him and then faded as the door to the Inquisitor’s chamber slammed shut behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

“Go into the Fade and fight the red lyrium inside the boss’s body?” Iron Bull questioned with raised eyebrows. “Are we supposed to shrink and go inside her?” He and Sera burst into laughter. Again, Cullen planted his palm in his face.

“Only mages can go,” Solas tried to explain for what seemed to be the hundredth time. No one heard him over the sound of Sera and Bull’s raucous laughter.

“How do you fight red lyrium?” Varric asked when the two finally calmed down. “It just . . . sits there. I mean, of course you can break it into harmless shards, but it’s _in_ the Inquisitor.”

“I believe we have to venture into the Inquisitor’s mind via dreaming and lyrium, and we will destroy it from there.” Dorian grinned slyly. “It will be a party.”

Vivienne stepped forward with her hand on her chest. “I _suppose_ I will assist the two of you.”

“Here’s the lyrium,” Dagna announced as she entered the room and set down a large box of glowing, blue vials. She watched the Inquisitor toss and turn with large, glistening eyes. “Help her,” she commanded the group. She returned to the stairs.

Since mages were the only ones able to enter the Fade and remain lucid, they readied the lyrium and choose chairs to recline in before they lapsed into unconsciousness. They closed their eyes, the lyrium and the inspiring words of non-mage members lulling them into sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Black lightning flashed in a white sky like a spiderweb. Arachnids’ bodies covered the white ground so much that it appeared black. Black towers rose in the distance. A grove stood in the mages’ path. Solas looked to the other mages and nodded at them to begin their trek through Riya’s dream. Vivienne’s displeasure for stepping on the spiders was visible. Dorian and Solas tramped along, uncaring for the spiders beneath them.

They arrived at the grove much faster than they thought possible. Solas started at closer inspection of the trees, for they were not ordinary. They were in the design of ancient elven tree sculptures. Their branches curled into a spherical shape. Lightning struck at their black metal bark every few seconds.

“What unusual trees,” Dorian commented. “I’ve seen some in Tevinter. They’re elven, I believe. I wonder how the Inquisitor knows what they look like.” He squinted at them with a puzzled expression on his face. “Solas, you must know about them.”

Solas inhaled and thought of a reply. “They _are_ elven. She must have seen them in her Dalish travels.”

“Ah, yes. Of course.” Solas hoped that meant Dorian would not question their existence in her mind. Those trees meant far more than anyone knew.

Ahead of them, Vivienne gasped. The men ran to the source of her revulsion, and they, too, gasped. The grove was filled with Dalish corpses. Aravels lay with broken wheels. Fire burned in the air, the first color in the world so far. Arrows were everywhere. Dorian knelt to examine one. “Inquisition arrows,” he murmured, pocketing the weapon. He stood with his head held low. This was her clan.

“Lavellan,” Solas whispered. He knew her clan had been killed by Cullen’s mistake of approaching with armed forces, but . . . he didn’t know it was this terrible.

“We must move on,” Vivienne declared when she started to walk away. It seemed she had regained almost all of her composure. Almost. Her lip twitched in the slightest way.

Dorian followed her after a regretful look. Solas knelt beside the fallen elves for a moment and bowed his head in silence. Then he stood and continued after the other two.

The trees disappeared behind them, and a temple appeared before them. No. No _a_ temple. The Temple of Sacred Ashes. No one said a word as they advanced. They all knew what it was. But that did not change that they were afraid to enter.

The immense wooden doors swung open with astonishing ease. The hall was packed with dignitaries in both Orlesian and Ferelden garb, but there was no sound. No one moved. No one spoke. The interlopers wandered through the maze of living cadavers.

“Incredible,” Dorian commented. His words sliced through the silence, angering Solas for some inexplicable reason. “It seems they are all frozen in time, just as in Redcliffe, but . . .” he squinted at a green light that flooded the chamber ahead, its radiance expanding gradually toward them. “It’s the Conclave explosion,” he uttered breathlessly. They saw now that the attendees of the Conclave moved at the same almost imperceptible rate the light did. They took no notice of their impending doom. Solas frowned as he passed a couple kissing, for he possessed the tragic knowledge they would be statues of ash momentarily, and he was unable to stop it. He closed his eyes. This was all his fault. If he hadn’t given the Orb to Corypheus––

“Hurry up!” Solas opened his eyes to see Dorian and Vivienne already standing by the glowing hallway. Dorian beckoned him to follow. Solas obliged eagerly. They stood before the Veilfire, unsure of whether they could walk through it in this dream world. Solas closed his eyes and discreetly willed the fire to be harmless. When he was done, he looked to Vivienne and Dorian, hoping they hadn’t noticed his Dreamer abilities.

Seeing they had not made any further actions, Solas stepped into the flames and waved them forward. They followed, and the mages jogged down the hallway to the source of the explosion. There, Corypheus and Riya stood, both in the process of entering the Fade to protect themselves from the explosion. The Divine was already gone, the first of countless victims to the coming horror. Solas’s eyes widened at the sight of the Orb. He scampered to it and cradled it in his hands. The magic was no longer there, but it could be replenished; at least it was not broken.

Dorian and Vivienne observed him quizzically. He hastily stood and tried to make the Orb seem less precious to him by holding it with only one hand. It was a difficult action to bring himself to. “I have researched this Orb before,” he explained, the lies gushing out of his mouth like water from a fountain. “It is what Corypheus used to tear open the Veil.”

Dorian nodded approvingly. “It’s too bad we can’t take it back to Skyhold to research it.”

 _Yes, that is too bad,_ Solas agreed in his thoughts as he stuffed the Orb into a large pocket in his robes.

“There’s nothing more for us to do here,” Vivienne urged them on. Her eyes, however, remained locked on the Divine’s remnants.

They left the room and entered the hallway. Already, stone bricks flew away from the walls, almost hovering in the air. People nearest to the hallway drifted in their fall through the air as though it was some odd dance. Expressions of distress, of fear, were frozen on their faces. The kissing couple remained blissfully unaware of the advancing fires that awaited the chance to consume their prey.

The mages finally left the explosion behind them. White mountains rose before them, perceptible only because of the swirling green mass that overwhelmed the sky. Haven was nestled in those mountains, a ruined Haven from after Corypheus’s attack. Most of it was buried beneath snow and ice. Winds howled as did a familiar wolf in the distance. Solas grinned at its call, for that had secretly been him.

Dorian traced scratches in the gate. “I wasn’t with the Inquisition long,” Dorian spoke quietly, his eyes on the gashes in the wood. “but Haven was a hard thing to come to terms with. All those people . . . I would say I can’t imagine what the Inquisitor went through, but we’re seeing it now. For all of her innocence, her mind is truly a dark place.”

“I don’t see how this meandering is aiding us or the Inquisitor,” Vivienne commented with an annoyed sniff.

Dorian answered, “We are getting closer. Red lyrium is known for its effects on the mind as well as the body. For us to help the Inquisitor recover, we must destroy the lyrium in here, thereby destroying it in her body as well.”

She scoffed. “You are the Tevinter. I suppose _you_ should know how corrupted magic works.”

He turned and pointed a finger at her. “What are you implying?”

She crossed her arms, closed her eyes, and held her head high. “There is nothing to imply. It is fairly obvious.”

Solas ignored their bickering and headed toward the chantry. The snow crunched beneath his sole-less shoes. The other two mages saw the path of footsteps and ended their argument for the time being. They stopped before the doors to the chantry, for the snow buried half of the doors’ height. No words were needed for them to whip out their staves and strike at the wood with fire. The doors crackled and crumbled away under the torrents of flame.

The floor inside was coated in several feet of snow. The candles had long since gone out. Compared to the usual hustle and bustle of the area, the emptiness and absolute silence that blanketed every sound was unnerving. Each trespasser to this hallowed hall of quiet could hear his or her own heartbeat. It was a tomb, and there, the living were not welcome.

They stepped carefully, even though there was no obvious reason to. The door open at the end of the hall was a mouth waiting to swallow them, carry them into its shadowed abyss.

Dorian yelped. Vivienne screamed. Solas lit his staff with lightning crackling along its skull-tipped end. A nug squealed and darted for cover through a cracked door. Solas tilted his head at the other two. “Is that what frightened you?”

Dorian cleared his throat. “It, um, brushed against my leg.”

“I heard him scream,” Vivienne spoke coolly as if her disclaimer wiped away the memory of her exaggerated fear. It worked. They entered the doorway at the end of the hall with no further words exchanged.

None of them could say what brought them to that room, only that there was something of importance there. There was an anchor at the back of each of their minds that pulled them to these locations.

The lightning lingering on Solas’s stave lit the room enough for them to see the item of interest: a thick tome marked with the eye of the Seekers, the symbol of the original Inquisition. Vivienne brushed her fingers along the spine of the book and took it in her hands. She ignored the inquiring looks of her party members.

Their feet dropped from beneath them. Vivienne held the book to her chest with one hand and righted herself using her stave with the other. “It’s a quake!” Dorian shouted unnecessarily. Books tumbled off the shelves lining the room, falling on the mages who struggled to stand.

“We must hurry to find the source of the red lyrium!” Solas exclaimed as he helped the others to their feet. “Her body is failing!” They bolted out the door and through the hall, this time uncaring of the noise they made in their egress. The roof collapsed behind them, but they could not stop; the mountains laden with snow posed an even greater threat. They reached the gate and stopped, for an impossibility stood before them. Cole watched them approach with wide eyes. He immediately began speaking. “Hurt, hopeless, humiliated herald. The red is coming!” He pressed his hands to his head and closed his eyes. “ _Change!_ You must destroy the cause!”

Dorian rolled his eyes. “Can you please make sense, even if it’s for just two seconds?”

Solas held a hand out to quiet Dorian. “What do you mean, Cole?”

Cole pointed at the mountains, and the mages turned around to look. Red spilled down their sides like blood, but the red sizzled with energy reminiscent of lightning. _Red lyrium._

Solas furrowed his brow in concentration as he thought of Cole’s words. _Change. Cause. The Cause of the change, perhaps? Could that mean the poison? No. Things in the Fade were rarely so straightforward. Cause of the change. Cause of the change. What could be the cause of change?_ He knew it must relate to Riya in a great way, or else it wouldn’t be the cure in her mind. He pressed his fingers to his temples as he considered the many ways such a vital message could be interpreted. His thoughts derailed as the pool of red lyrium grew closer. His hand dropped to his side, hitting the Orb in his pocket. His eyes enlarged. He pulled the Orb from his pocket, running his hand over the fingerprint-like grooves in its surface. _Change_. The Orb changed Thedas forever. “Dorian! Give me the arrow!”

“What?”

“Give me the arrow!”

“Okay!” As he handed it to Solas, he whispered under his breath, “I don’t see how _an arrow_ will save us from a river of red lyrium, but so be it.”

“Vivienne,” Solas demanded, “give me the book.”

She squinted at him, but after seeing Dorian give up the arrow, she dropped the book into Solas’s hands with only a scowl. Solas closed his eyes and imagined each of the three settings. _The grove. The Temple. Haven._ He thought of the changes each had brought about in Riya’s life. _New family. New purpose. New home._

He spoke to Riya. _Your source of misery should be for celebration. You have a new chance. Use it, for it is something very few possess and many envy._ He channeled energy to his hands and watched as the three items shattered. Watching the Orb break apart did the same to his heart, even though he knew it was not the true Orb. The shards of each item disintegrated and blew like chaff in the wind.

The ground ceased its quaking. The red lyrium receded. Dorian and Vivienne looked at him with shock obvious on their faces. Cole grinned knowingly. Solas explained, “The scenery gave form to what the red lyrium wanted her to think: everything is black and white.” He turned his gaze to the mountains. “If only it was so,” he whispered.

“What was that?” Dorian asked.

“Nothing,” Solas waved the question away. “We must leave this place.”

They agreed without hesitation, closing their eyes and imagining their world, the room in which their physical bodies resided. There, they opened their eyes. Riya smiled back at Solas with tears cascading down her cheeks. He rose and ran to her side where they embraced, unconcerned by the audience behind them.

“Ahem!” Sera cleared her throat. When Solas glanced at her, he saw the shadow of Andruil. He shook his head. He would never get used to seeing that, especially with Sera, of all elves. He reluctantly released Riya from the embrace.

“How are you feeling?” Josephine asked her.

“Fine, actually,” Riya replied. “How long was I ill?”

Leliana answered, “Too long. The dignitaries are minutes away from stealing my ravens to send out messages of distress.”

When Riya moved to stand, Varric held his hands out. “Wait, wait, wait. You were just at death’s door, and you want to go talk _politics_? With _Orlesians_?”

“I am the Inquisitor,” she declared as she tidied her hair in a mirror. “It’s my duty.”

When she was done, she turned around and bowed to her heroes. “Thank you for saving me,” she stated with a grin before she hurried down the stairs.

“Congrats, Chuckles,” Varric complemented, slapping Solas on the back, “you saved your damsel, making up for the three dozen times she’s saved you.”

Solas narrowed his eyes but could not resist the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips.


	6. Chapter 6

“It was a Gaspard supporter,” Riya paused as she took a sip of her new favorite beverage––coffee. “He’s in the dungeon. You know the rest.” Riya’s eyebrows lifted in a curious fashion as Solas gently took the mug from her hands and took a sip. His first instinct was revulsion, but . . . he quite liked the sugar and . . . was that milk or cream? Riya took the mug back and grinned. “You like it, don’t you?” He shook his head, but a smile played with his lips. “You like it!” Despite his aversion to tea, this . . . coffee was pleasant. Her eyes became as large as saucers. “What if there’s chocolate coffee? Imagine my two favorite foods, drinks . . . Anyway, imagine the two best things in Thedas, besides dragons, of course,” she watched his playful scowl with a sidelong gaze, “coming together in the best drink ever!” Her voice echoed off the rotunda walls and up to the high ceiling above.

“That sounds wonderful,” he replied softly. He made a mental note to look for some when he had the opportunity. She yawned and lay her head down on his legs as she sprawled over his couch. She set her now empty mug on the table beside them.

“I was really scared today,” she explained softly. “I could feel the red lyrium in me. That horrible thing I’ve been fighting for so long was a part of me.” She paused. “What did you see in my head?”

He combed his fingers through her silken hair. “Nothing either of us should be afraid of,” he whispered.

“That’s good,” she uttered, slow breaths and relaxation pulling her into the Fade. Soon, she was asleep, despite the coffee. Solas sat there for a while, admiring how calm and gorgeous she was after such a dreadful day. Then, he carefully stood, moving her slowly so as to not awaken her. He opened a journal, and, glancing back at her to be sure she was asleep, wrote the following words: _Riya’s life was put in jeopardy today, this time by forces outside of my control. My agents have failed to protect her, letting poison from an adversary slip through their fingers. After venturing into the Fade, I saved Riya. There I saw the Orb but was unable to recover it. Riya is now alive and well, but she remains my weakness._ He sighed. _Oh, Riya Lavellan, my_ vhenan _, my precious poison and reviled remedy, when will you become my downfall?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading my story! If you would like to support me as an author, please pick up a copy of one of my books from Amazon: The White Phoenix Saga (fantasy series): EverFire, The Burning Arrows, Blood of the Elders; Artist's Whispers (poetry collection): Tomorrow's Dreams; A Bard's Tales (short story collection): Venture Forth. For more info, visit my bio or follow me on Insta @writer.gloriabyrd


End file.
